Breaking Dead - A Breaking Bad-Walking Dead Crossover
by StriderStarkWIC
Summary: This is a Breaking Bad/Walking Dead crossover where it suggests that both of the AMC shows take place in the same "universe". It picks up Jesse Pinkman's story.


**BREAKING DEAD**

 _ **A BREAKING BAD-WALKING DEAD CROSSOVER**_

 **BEFORE**

It was hard to believe that only about a year ago he was locked in a cell cooking meth for a gang of bikers who had captured him and kept him on as a slave. _Mr. White._ He thought. _I should have just killed him. What if he's still alive? He let Jane die! I should have killed him when I had the chance._ More often than not he was thinking about either Mr. White, Jane... or... Andrea. His hands clenched into fists at the thought of her. _But Walt had killed all the bikers. So he deserved my mercy, right?_ He thought. Mr. White had even left Todd for Jesse to kill. That had been so satisfying, strangling the life from that sack of shit. After he drove off that night, leaving Mr. White bleeding from that gunshot wound, he drove, and drove, and drove. He stayed in some motels, always under an alias, slept in his car some, even in the woods a few nights. He had driven to Atlanta, Georgia, hoping to be able to start a new life there. Already there were reports of a weird _disease,_ people saying the dead were rising again. You couldn't turn on the car radio, or walk into a bar without hearing them. Despite that, he had been hopeful, maybe they hadn't found the fingerprints in the lab. _Maybe._

But that hadn't worked out. By the time he arrived in Atlanta there was an A.P.D. Out on him all across the country. "Heisenberg's Sidekick Still At Large" or "The Real Heisenberg?" plastered every tabloid in the country. The only upside was the only pictures they had of him were of him before he had his monstrous beard. That was good at least.

He had been caught on the street in Atlanta the day after he arrived. He had slept outside of the city on the first night, but the next day decided to brave the multitudes to try to get some food with the $30 he had crumpled in his jean's pocket. Inside the store went fine, but after he came out, a cop was walking by, a big black guy, with hands like pieces of meat and arms like elephant trunks. He looked at Jesse as he passed, stared a bit, and walked past. Jesse walked another block past his car to hopefully throw off any chance of him following. As he rounded the corner and was walking to his car the cop was behind him. So suddenly that he jumped and yelped a little.

"Jesse Pinkman," the cop said, slamming Jesse onto the hood of his car. "You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and _will_ be used against you in a court of law. You have right to an attorney, and-"

"Get your hands of me _bitch!"_ Jesse said, indignant. "I don't know who you think I am but I haven't done shit."

Jesse struggled some but that only gained him a punch in the ribs. Suddenly he became aware of screaming a couple blocks away. _Loud_ screaming. It sounded like dozens of people yelling in unison.

"What the fuck?" said the cop. "You hear that?" He asked Jesse.

"Yeah I hear it." The cop let go of Jesse a bit and he pulled free. The cop didn't even seem to care. Then it happened so fast. Suddenly there was a scuffling of feet and a groan behind them. A woman was walking toward them, though her shirt was covered in blood.

"M'am?" said the cop. "Are you hurt?"

She was approaching faster now, and looking up at them. Jesse realized that her face was a sickly color of white, she looked almost _dead_. Jesse started walking backwards in a panic, he tripped over himself and fell to the ground. The cop walked forward to help the woman. When he got close enough, she grabbed him and put her face in his neck. Blood sprayed everywhere as her teeth sunk into the soft part of his throat. Jesse's eyes were wide with terror as the cop screamed a bloodcurdling scream. The cop fell to the ground, dead. The woman turned to Jesse and came at him. When she was close enough to Jesse's position on the ground he kicked her shin, he heard bones shatter as she fell to the ground, moaning and groaning in anger. His heart pounded in his ears as he crawled over to the cop to get his gun. He turned and saw the woman coming at him, his fingers fumbled once, twice, three times on the leather strap that was over the handle of the pistol in the cop's waist holster. He got the gun free on the fourth try, raised it and aimed at the woman's head, then pulled the trigger twice. _Click click._ The safety was on, he flicked the safety off as he held his breath and aimed. He pulled the trigger and a cascade of blood and brains propelled from the back of her skull as she fell lifeless to the concrete ground.

Suddenly Gale came rushing back. The look on his face as Jesse raised the gun to end his life. He dropped the gun on the ground and sit with his back against the wheel of his car, rubbing to temples with the heels of his dirty hands. _Gale_ had _to die. He HAD TO. Right?_

He sat there for about ten minutes, holding his head in his hands, the pistol by his left foot, the dead cop about two feet away. He looked over at the police officer's body, and realized he was breathing. He got up and walked to him. "Holy shit you're alive!" He walked quickly to the cop car and reached in looking for a cell phone or something. He found a small flip phone and turned around just in time to see the cop barrel into him and push his back against the side of the car.

"What the fuck man?" Jesse said as he pushed the cop back. "I was getting your damn phone to call 911 bitch!" Then he realized that his face was just as discolored as the woman's had been. _Holy shit._ He thought as it dawned on him. _This is it. The disease that's everywhere!_

The cop came at him again, but this time he was ready, he hit the driver's side window with his elbow as the cop was approaching, shattering the glass. He dodged at the last second. He pushed the cops face onto the broken glass and blood sprayed into the car and down the outside of the door. The cop stopped moving. Jesse grabbed the gun of the ground, any ammo that was on the cop, and pulled his head off of the glass on the door and got in the driver's seat, turned the keys, and drove off. He was running from Atlanta, from the cop, from the woman, from the screaming.

 **NOW**

It was dawn and Jesse was running up the hill, the groans and moans of the pack at his heels. Almost a year had passed since Atlanta, and it had just gotten worse. It had been two days since a bite of food, and one since his last sip of water. His stomach rumbled with every step, and his mouth was persistently dry. It had been like this sporadically for what must be the better part of a year. Wandering from farmhouse to farmhouse, only staying each place a night or two. He had stayed four days and four nights at a farm outside of Atlanta. The farmhouse was big and white, and it had a barn that had apparently burned down at some point.

The pack was still at his heels as he reached the crest of the hill. Through the trees at the bottom he could see a building. More of a shack really, but in theory he could stay the night there and be safe from _them_. He sped through the leafless trees, bumping into a few, until he reached the shack. He threw the door open and shut it behind him. He looked around the room for something to push in front. There was a fridge sitting near an oven. He ran over to it and checked its contents. There was an old jug of milk, and what looked to be half of a submarine sandwich. He took both out and put them on the ground as he turned the fridge over and pushed it in front of the door. He heard groaning and pulled a blind aside to look out of the window, there were _hundreds_ of those _things_. Rotten and dead, some of their guts had been pulled out, other's faces had been ripped off. He shut the blind and turned away, so scared that he was shaking. He looked around the room. There was no furniture in the shack, only a wall of unusable appliances. An oven, a dishwasher, even a washer and dryer were sitting there.

He looked down at himself and his attire. He was wearing a pair of black jeans - not too tight not too loose – tucked into scuffed up black combat boots. He wore a black long-sleeved t-shirt for some band under a ratty leather biker jacket. On his head he wore a black beanie to keep the cold wind off his head. On his hip was the pistol he had taken from the cop, tucked into the waistband of his jeans. He didn't quite remember where he had gotten each article of clothing. _Some farmhouse or abandoned apartment._ He thought.

After a short rest he walked to the other side of the shack, and pulled the blinds aside and looked out of the window on that side. There was a road about a hundred meters away, with a mack truck turned over on it. He closed the blinds and fell onto the ground, exhausted, and slept.

He woke to a noise that sounded like a motorcycle. He rose and pulled the blind aside to look out of the window. There was a black man standing in the road, a pick up truck and a motorcycle were parked near him. Two men approached him, one wielding a crossbow, and wearing a leather jacket. The other was asian and didn't seem to be carrying a weapon in his hand, but he couldn't tell for sure from this distance. He ran to the door and down the hill. _Seventy yards, sixty._ The black guy got in the flatbed of the truck and the asian guy got in the driver's seat. The crossbow guy got on the motorcycle. _Fifty yards._ They started their engines. _Forty._ They started driving. He decided to scream. "Hey! Over here stop, hey!" _Thirty yards from the road._ "COME ON BITCH!"He reached the road and ran toward them. "HEY! COME ON!" They went over the top of the hill down the road, out of sight.

He collapsed and started crying. One other time he had almost joined a group, but was too afraid. He was hiding in a car by the interstate when two men, one old, and one younger, and a little boy had rolled up in a red truck. The younger man had said all he wanted to do was protect his kid Carl. He had listened to the entire conversation, but he remembered very little of it. A few minutes later more cars had rolled up, and a motorcycle. _I wonder if its the same guy._ He thought.

He sat in the road, crying and beating the pavement with already bruised fists. After what seemed like hours he stood up, sniffled a little bit and turned in each direction. In the distance he saw what looked to be train tracks. He made for it, hoping to be able to follow the tracks. He reached them after a few minutes of walking, there was a sign next to the tracks. He walked over to it and realized it was a map, showing all the tracks in the area. Where all the tracks ended was circled in red and a arrow pointing at it, coming from the words: "Terminus, sanctuary for all, community for all. Those who arrive survive." Jesse Pinkman's eyes welled up with tears as he looked at the map. He'll be able to be safe! He scrutinized the map and looked at the directions, then turned toward the tracks, and started running down them, by his reckoning he could be there tomorrow! Finally safety!

He ran for two hours straight, the ecstasy he was feeling totally made him forget his accelerated heartbeat, the aching in his legs, and all the walking corpses he had passed.

He didn't sleep that night, only kept walking. He had to be almost there! Night passed quickly it seemed like. Jesse was smiling as he rounded a bend in the tracks and approached the giant brick train station that had to be Terminus. He was sprinting now, running hell for leather toward it, he wanted so badly to be safe. He ran through agap in the chain link fence and down an alleyway. There was a set of grills in front of him, and some meat cooking on them. A man with a short beard and short hair was getting food off of it when he turned, hearing Jesse's panting breaths.

"Hello." The man said. "What's your name?"

"Uhhhh." Jesse thought for a minute, he didn't wanna use his real name. "Walter. Walter Goodman."

"Well hello Walter." Said the man, smiling and walking up to shake his hand. "I'm Gareth. Welcome to Terminus."


End file.
